Swaraj
by Tsuki Amano
Summary: On the 15th of August, Arthur visits his once colony as she celebrates the day she won her freedom.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p>Adjusting a small pin that was a replica of her country's flag, she tossed her thick plait over her shoulder and made her way through the throngs of people. It was still relatively early in the morning; the air was cool and crisp. It would be another few hours before the sun scorched the land. Vendors all around her called out, tempting her with their offers for a hot, steaming cup of chai, a plate of fluffy idlis or a quick cup of Maggi. She dragged herself away from the tantalizing aromas, promising herself that she would buy something as soon as she collected Arthur.<p>

The railway was bustling although it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. She reached the platform early; the train hadn't come in yet. She carefully sat on the metal bench, just under the huge clock, ensuring that the pleats off her sari didn't get messed up. A street dog that had been sleeping near her lifted its head up drowsily, peered at her uninterestedly and went back to sleep.

Ten minutes later, she was on the verge of getting herself some breakfast, when a distant rumbling told her that the train was on its way. She watched as it came in, slowly grinding to a stop. As the passengers hurriedly got down, porters rushed to help them with their bags. From among the sea of people, her warm chocolate brown eyes landed on a harried young Englishman whose startlingly green eyes darted back and forth, as though searching for someone.

"Arthur!" she called out, over the chatter. His eyes met hers and he let out a relieved sigh. As he made his way over to her, she noticed that he had travelled light, only a single suitcase this time. He wore a simple white button-up shirt, cotton like she had suggested with an olive green sweater vest. His brown trousers ended in black dress shoes which miraculously remained well polished despite the mad rush to get off the train.

"Sita," he said warmly, "You look lovely, that's a new sari isn't it?" She grinned at him, returning his one armed hug. "Have you had breakfast?" she asked. Arthur shook his head, "No, but I could murder a cup of tea now that you mention it."

"I don't suppose that you could wait till we reached the hotel?" Nodding, Arthur followed her, raising an eyebrow when they stopped at a bus stand. "Come on," she said, easily stepping in, "This is the best way to see the city!" Twenty minutes later, he had to agree with her. It always amazed him, how much the country changed every year and how many things remained the same. He never failed to be taken aback by the sheer amount of traffic on the road, or by how the people living here seemed to be least bothered. Sita had engaged the conductor in a conversation which Arthur couldn't follow for the life of him. His Hindi was shaky to say the least.

Looking back out, he turned his attention to the trees that lined the roads, noting the bright red gul mohars that shone crimson with the sun. "The traffic's a bit less today." He turned to face the nation. Sita shrugged, "Most people are at home, today is a national holiday."

Breakfast was a subdued affair; Sita got them two plates of idlis and steaming hot cups of tea. When Arthur sipped at it, he was surprised at the aromatic kick it had. "That's elaichi," Sita said, noting his bewilderment. "Refresh my memory; I'm afraid my Hindi's a tad rusty. Elaichi is…" "Cardamom. The queen of spices. Do you like it?"

He smiled softly at her, "It's exquisite."

"I knew you'd like it, I can take you to the place where they grind it tomorrow. I'm sure we can get you some packets if you'd like." "That'd be wonderful love, but I'm afraid I can't stay later than tomorrow morning. Things aren't perfectly alright back home."

Nodding, she finished her own cup of tea. "It slipped my mind for a moment. That's alright, I'll get some sent over for you." Arthur cracked a grin of his own, "I'm not too shocked that you forgot, you are getting on in your years aren't you?" Sita mock glared at him.

"How many years has it been now? Over sixty hasn't it?" Tracing her finger over the rim of the cup, she replied softly, "It has." Their conversation came to a standstill, Arthur sipping at his tea while Sita fiddled with her sari.

About an hour later, they both went down for the parade. The stifling heat did little to dampen the spirits of the performing artistes, and Arthur watched entranced as performers danced, sung, carried out acts of daredevilry (Sita how do so many people fit on a motorbike?) and so on. As the last troupe of schoolchildren left the grounds, a sudden hush fell over the crowd. The onlookers fell silent as the last part of the ceremony began. As the Prime Minister walked towards the flag, Sita and Arthur stood along with the others in the stadium. "Thank you for coming Arthur." Sita said quietly.

"I would never have missed this, you know Sita, I really am proud of you. How far you've come, how much you've grown." Sita was about to reply when the Prime Minister stopped in front of the flag. They watched as the man unfurled the flag, the tricolor rising up, fluttering in the breeze as the flower petals that had been in the folded flag drifted to the ground.

The people now stood at attention, and the first strains of music pierced through the silence.

_Jana gana mana adhinayaka jaya he, bharatha bhagya vidhata_

Around him, everyone was singing their national anthem, some loudly, others faintly. But each one of them had a look of pride across their face. Arthur looked at Sita, her eyes shining as she sang along. "Happy birthday Sita." He thought to himself.

Later, she'd con him into eating biriyani that was far too spicy for him, no matter how divine it tasted, then he'd treat her to gulab jamuns. She'd trick him into cheering "Jai Hind" along with others and at the end of the day, they'd watch Rang de Basanti or some such movie.

But Arthur gazed fondly at his once colony, he couldn't stop the intense feeling of happiness that built there. He looked back up the flag, which blew in the cerulean sky, flying high over them all representing the hopes and aspirations of the nation.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

This is in commemoration of my country's 65th Independence Day which we celebrated on Monday.

**Translation notes:**

Chai is tea. Idlis are soft, white fluffy non-sweet cake-like food items, they're made from fermented rice and lentils and they taste amazing when they're hot. Technically, it's more popular in the south. Maggi is a brand of noodles, like Ramen. It's essentially a staple for people in hostels, anyone who can't cook etc. Biriyani is a rice dish that either has vegetables, egg, chicken, fish or mutton with it. The rice is usually long-grained (basmati) and flavored. Gulab jamuns are sweets that can be eaten hot or cold.

For the record, elaichi tea is awesome! The aroma is to die for and it tastes really good, but it has to be made right. If it's too strong it's overpowering.

The sari is the national costume. When they use buses to get around, that's from personal experience. A lot of people use public buses as a cheap and convenient means of transport. The ones that pick up people from railways and airports tend to be much better maintained that the normal buses, but either way, it's no easy feat managing a sari in either one.

Oh and Rang de Basanti is movie that came out a few years ago about patriotism. It's very well done (at least in my opinion.)

That's it for now. Happy Independence Day to everyone who celebrated it! Don't forget to review.


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